


Nothing but the Memory of a Gunshot Echo

by saveawallflower



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, Depression, Love, M/M, Seb - Freeform, Sherlock - Freeform, Suicide Attempt, abandoned, gun - Freeform, mormor, saved - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2354348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saveawallflower/pseuds/saveawallflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the going gets tough, the tough get going.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing but the Memory of a Gunshot Echo

_You struck me like a poisoned dart,_

_Taking me over, right from the start._

_But you'll never see the wound on my heart._

_So goodbye, my dear, 'till death do us part'._

 

   A tear rolled down Seb's long, pointed nose as he finished the last verse of the note and tucked it into the front pocket of his suit. He wiped it away quickly: he had made up his mind. He had done plenty of crying and, soon, he would never have to feel pain again.

  He'd loaded a gun thousands of times, but his hands shook as he did it this time, the animal part of his brain screaming at him to stop; that this was unnatural. He tried desperately to block out the images of his crying family, the few friends he had and, worst of all, Jim. He wouldn't be there to cradle him as he cried, stroke his hair, kiss his nose.     

    He gritted his teeth and shook his head, clicking the bullet into place. He probably would even cry, the bastard. No. He was a heartless, cold, manipulative puppeteer and Seb knew his love for Jim would never be returned.

  After staring at the barrel of the gun for a few seconds, Seb raised the trembling gun to the side of his head, letting his eyes flutter shut. It wasn't exactly poetic; his last view of them world was a harsh white bathroom. Practically clinical. But the world had lost its beauty for Seb a long time ago. Letting out a deep breath, he curled his finger over the trigger.

"SEB! SEB YOU BASTARD! SEB! WHERE ARE YOU?" the animalistic, guttural scream was accompanied by thumping, frantic footsteps.

Jim.

Seb tried to keep the gun firmly pressed to his temple, but his hand was quivering more erratically than before and he couldn't block out the thundering of  Jim throwing his fists against the door, sobbing desperately.

"Seb....don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare! You...I...NO."

"Step away from the door."

"Let me in. Let me hold you. I promise...I can help...I need to help."

"Exactly. You need this. You can't live with the fact that it was all your fucking fault. But once you've done your bit you don't give a shit, do you? Because then it's down to me."

"You think can't live with the death I've caused? Do you even know who I am, Seb?.....You're the only one.....Your loss would break my heart."

Seb laughed. Cold and derisive. Not at all like him. He heard Jim sigh from outside the door.

"Seb...I know I'm a dick. I just thought...I thought you were used to it. God, you're too used to it. I'm an arsehole. I know, I _know._ "

Jim's sobs pierced the silence every few seconds. Seb sighed again.

"Step away from the door, Jim. Or I'll get rid of the note and you'll be left with nothing but the memory of a gunshot echo."

He heard a stifled cry and Jim's weight shifting away from the door. Raising the gun, he shot the lock with expert aim. Jim practically threw the door off its hinges as he charged and dropped to his knees in front of Seb, cupping his face with his hands and sobbing into his shirt.

Seb's resolve broke and his shoulders shook violently as he clung to Jim like his life depended on it. Because it did.


End file.
